Portmanteau Couple Names
by Sofricus Aurora Zakuro
Summary: A series of fluffy oneshots based on the portmanteau couple names created by the Glee fandom. Crack and canon, slash and het. Requests OPEN.
1. Partie

**Portmanteau Couple Name**

**A/n: **So, as a certain obnoxiously addictive TV series has forced me out of fanfic retirement, I now present to you an extremely strange series of one-shots. After realizing all the couple names that get thrown around in this fandom, I decided to do a series of pairing one-shots based on the couple's name. I AM taking requests for this story. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter One: Partie **

This was Artie's first party.

Well, he supposed, that wasn't _entirely _true. He'd been to birthday parties—he'd never had enough friends to even consider having one of his own, but Mercedes' parents threw her a giant bash every year, and he had attended several times. There was also that time that the entire club had gone to Mr. Schu's house to plan for Regionals, but he wasn't sure if that counted or not.

Needless to say, this was the wheelchair-bound singer's first party of any importance. He didn't recall the exact occasion—he felt like Brittany (the host) had said it had something to do with the first anniversary of her learning how to spell her name—but it was exactly the way high school parties were always portrayed in the movies or on television. Brittany's parents were absent; alcohol was everywhere. Football players and Cheerios danced to some too-loud techno music, and in a dark corner, several couples engaged in far more intimate forms of dance.

Artie pushed his glasses further up his nose as he glanced around, trying to locate the person who had gotten him into this party in the first place. Puck had explained to him that attending a party like this was the next step in his road to popularity. The nerd was under explicit instructions to get completely drunk. So far, he wasn't obeying them. His chaperone had disappeared within minutes of entering the party, most likely searching for a little Santana to liven up his night. He wouldn't be back for a while.

"Hi," someone said in a vague, breathy voice. He turned to see a blonde cheerleader (still in uniform despite it being Saturday night) perching on the arm of his chair.

"Oh. Hi, Brittany." There was awkward silence as the unintelligent blonde stared vacantly forward. "Nice party," Artie ventured.

"Thanks. Have you seen Santana? I think my cat ate her."

Having learned a long time ago to ignore over half of what the bisexual cheerleader said, Artie responded only to her question. "I think she and Puck vanished off somewhere." He hated telling her that—Brittany's feelings for her Latina friend were about as obvious as Finn's inability to dance—but he wasn't too happy with Santana himself, at the moment. He was feeling extremely lost without Puck to guide him through this unfamiliar territory.

"She's in trouble." Brittany announced, surprisingly decisive. She stood up. "I need to go find some eggplant. And figure out where my brother hid his Pokémon cards." Artie didn't dare ask what eggplant and Pokémon cards had to do with punishing Santana. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

As soon as Brittany had vacated the arm of his wheelchair, the less than comfortable seat obtained another occupant. This time, it was a tall, lean male in baggy jeans and a tight skirt. "Having fun?" Noah "Puck" Puckerman asked, holding a fist out for Artie.

The nerd bumped fists with Puck. "Yeah."

"Are you drunk?"

"I….think so?" He didn't actually think that he'd had nearly enough alcohol to achieve a drunken state, but who was he to know. This was his first time drinking.

"Good," replied Puck with a grin. "Now it's time for the next stage in your journey into popularity. We're going to need to borrow one of the empty bedrooms."

The nerd's face whitened. He knew exactly what the jock meant, and he was extremely uncomfortable with the thought. "I….I think Brittany and Santana are busy," he stuttered. "Something….something about eggplant and Pokémon cards."

In a second, the muscular, tanned jock was far too close for Artie's comfort. He kind of wanted to back away—which he would have done, had he not been backed completely into the wall already. Puck's smirk at that moment could be described in a single word: dangerous.

"Who said anything about girls?"


	2. Karomel

**Portmanteau Couple Name**

**A/n: **Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter 2: Karomel**

The first time Kurt found caramel candy in his locker, he thought it was a prank.

It looked innocuous enough: a small bag of golden-wrapped Werther's caramels, deposited squarely in the middle of his locker, with a note attached reading I'M SORRY in large, scrawling, barely legible handwriting.

Someone who did not get shoved into Dumpsters and get slushie facials every day would most likely have assumed that the candy was a gift from a secret admirer. However, Kurt, who _did _experience such treatment daily at William McKinley High, did not believe it was a gift from a secret admirer. The fact that he was, as far as he knew, the only gay male at the school (a certain Locker Incident having firmly established itself in his mind as having_ not happened_,) made it even less likely that this was not a prank.

So he took the candy home and put it on his bed, intending to throw it away when he took out the rest of the trash. However, his almost-step-brother got home before that could happen.

"Hey! Candy! Can I have some?" Finn asked. Kurt didn't turn around, but he could practically feel the thousand-watt grin spreading across the quarterback's face.

"I thought you and Sam were trying out that new diet?" the diva pointed out. "Plus, it's probably dog shit."

"Yeah, but one piece of candy won't…..dog shit?" He could feel the grin changing to a look of confusion.

"Yes, Finn, dog shit. I found it in my locker. It is, therefore, most likely a prank from one of the Neanderthals who make my life a living hell on a daily basis. Given their limited intelligence, I have hypothesized that the 'caramel candy' is actually the excrement of a dog."

Despite Kurt's warning, Finn took out a piece of caramel, unwrapped it noisily, and ate it even more noisily. "Don't blame me when you get indigestion and food poisoning," the soprano muttered under his breath.

"If this is dog shit, it's the best dog shit I've ever eaten," Finn announced. Without asking, he picked up the rest of the candy and left their shared bedroom, still chewing loudly.

The next several times Kurt found caramel candy in his locker, he ate it himself (though he still ended up giving Finn over half of the pieces, as he didn't want to ruin his figure). It was indeed delicious, and he came down with neither indigestion nor food poisoning.

Over the next several weeks, he found similar gifts in his locker on roughly a weekly basis. It was always the same—a bag of gold-wrapped caramel accompanied with a note in that same childish handwriting. The content of the notes was the only thing that varied: _You look nice today, _one of them said. _I'm really sorry, please forgive me, _another read. One day, he even got a note that said _I really wanted to kiss you today. I still wish I had. _He kept that one under his pillow.

About a month and a half went by, and Kurt still did not fall ill from any form of poisoning. (Neither did Finn, who ate more of the gifts than his almost step-brother did). He began to accept the fact that maybe it actually _was _a secret admirer. However, though he made a list of all the males in the school (along with all the girls who weren't intelligent enough to realize his sexuality, which was only one name long,) and pored over it each night, he was never able to figure out who the mystery sender was.

That is, until Mercedes solved it for him.

"Did you hear?" she asked him one morning, as he read the latest note (_I honestly love you_, it said, which made his heart speed up until he felt short of breath,) "Brittana were caught doing…well, you know…in the _principal's office_!"

He frowned up at her. "Brittana?"

His best friend rolled her eyes. "Have you been living under a rock, babe? It's a portmanteau. Brittany. Santana. Brittana. They're all the rage these days, you know. Finchel and Quam and stuff like that."

"Portmanteau…" he whispered.

"Yeah, like—"

Suddenly, Kurt understood. He remembered how the bullying he usually received had decreased since a certain incident that he liked to pretend didn't happen (except, of course, in his dreams). He remembered how a certain individual was no long a member of the group of bullies who still _did _occasionally harass him.

It all made sense now.

Later that day, Kurt slipped a note of his own into another locker. It was a simple lined piece of paper, on which was written the words, in his small, curly handwriting: _Karofsky + Hummel = Karomel, _and below that, a question mark.

He was frightened out of his mind that he might be wrong—and yet, he knew that he was right.

Sometime after school, that same piece of paper made its way back into Kurt's locker—only slightly altered. The question mark had been erased and, in the same large, scrawling hand that Kurt easily recognized, was written a single word:

_Forever. _


	3. Artina

**Portmanteau Couple Name**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 3: Artina**

As it always did when Mr. Schu was late, rehearsal started with an extremely strange question courtesy of a certain blonde, bisexual cheerleader.

"If you were the opposite gender, what would your name be?" Brittany asked, brushing a few strands of her pale hair behind her ear. "Mine would be like….Brittano. Or just Britt."

Kurt responded almost immediately, earning him several odd looks. _Had he considered this before? _"As Kurt doesn't have a feminine form, my dad would most likely have named me something uncreative like Bertha. I would change my name as soon as possible, most likely to Barbara or Victoria." He paused, then added, "Or Gaga."

There was an awkward silence after the diva's respond, but it actually seemed like (for once) the other glee club members were thinking about Brittany's question.

"Santos," Santana decided. "Not that I would ever want to be a guy. Too much sweat." She inspected her nails, seemingly unaware of the death glares several guys shot her.

"Tino," Tina put in.

"Noelle, bitches," Puck bumped fists with Mike. "And I'd still be more badass than all of you put together."

"Finngelina!" Finn shouted after several minutes of intense concentration. The entire club rolled their eyes.

"Miku," Mike decided. "Like that green haired chick from all that Japanese merchandise."

"Mercedes doesn't have a guy form," the busty black girl pointed out. "So maybe I'd just go by M or something. What about you, Artie?"

The wheelchair bound boy shrugged. "I guess I haven't really thought about it."

"I KNOW!" Finn shouted triumphantly. "He can be…Artina!"

"But then when he married Tina their names would be the same," Brittany said in a monotone, as she stared forward into space.

"Tina wouldn't marry him if he was a girl," Puck pointed out.

Artie decided he was thoroughly uncomfortable with this conversation. "I just remembered. I have to go talk to my math teacher about making up that last test. Tell Mr. Schu I might not be back." He rolled out of the choir room as fast as his wheels could take him.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the distinctive sound of someone in high heels running to catch up with him. He stopped, turned around, and immediately blushed when he recognized the black-clad Asian female.

"Hey Artie…" Tina whispered shyly. "I just wanted to say….um….I would still marry you no matter what gender you were. And I…I…I think you would make a pretty hot girl." With that, she ran back down the hallway, leaving a stunned but beaming Artie sitting shocked in the middle of the hallway.


	4. Quick

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 4: Quick**

"I don't have a mailman problem."

Quinn Fabray rolled her eyes, not even deigning to look at the jock leaning against her open locker. "Congratulations."

"That makes me better than Finn."

"By what, the logic of a five year old? This is not a competition—and if it were, I wouldn't be judging according to—" The recently re-instated Cheerio fumbled for a word that wouldn't cause every passerby to turn in her direction. "—speed, given that I no longer have any interest in sex. Or Finn."

"I bet Sam has a mailman problem too."

Quinn pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the locker, silently praying for Puck to go away before this conversation got any more inappropriate.

"Actually, I know he does. He told me." The muscular jock turned to go.

Quinn spun around so fast that her Cheerios skirt nearly flew up, causing a nearby Jacob Ben Israel to pass out in the middle of the hallway.

"WHY were you talking to Sam?" The last thing she wanted this year, besides another pregnancy, was Puck causing any problems for her current boyfriend (who was cute, blonde, respectful, and in every way the anti-Puck).

"I was telling him to stay away from my woman."

_Dear God, please let this all be a dream, _Quinn prayed, even though the head cheerleader knew it wasn't. "I am not your woman, Puckerman. _Sam _is my boyfriend. Not you."

Finally, she looked into his warm brown eyes. He was smirking—always a bad sign.

"Not anymore."

"Noah Puckerman you had better be kidding you or else I AM going to hit you, have Artie turn you into a pancake, lock you in a room with Rachel for 24 hours, and then make you go on a shopping trip with Kurt." She almost wished that he had committed a more dangerous crime—maybe something that would keep him conveniently in juvie for the rest of the school year. Or until she graduated. Or maybe longer.

"He was too embarrassed about his mailman problem, so he dumped you."

"PUCK!"

"Kidding." Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. He had just been—

"Actually, he dumped you because he's gay." She gave him her best death glare, but his expression didn't changed. "I'm not kidding on this one, Quinn."

"You have no proof," she snapped.

Puck quirked an eyebrow in that annoying-but-sexy way of his. "Do you _want _to see the video footage of him and Hummel in the locker room….."

Unable to come up with a retort, Quinn merely shot Puck yet another glare and turned on her heel, stepping over Jacob's prone form as she headed off to find Sam.

"When you find out I'm not lying, just remember I'm still available AND I don't have a mailman problem!" he called in the direction of her retreating back. Quinn didn't even dignify that with a response.


	5. Puckleberry

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 5: Puckleberry **

"Rachel, babe, you're gorgeous and I love you, but—what the HELL is this?" A very angry looking football player pushed the many-colored globs of what his girlfriend insisted were edible around the commemorative 50th anniversary Wizard of Oz plate she had given him.

Rachel smiled sweetly. "It's a fruit salad, Noah. I made it for you for dinner."

He dropped the fork, taking her hand in his own tanned, rough one. "Babe, it's real sweet of you to make me dinner and everything, but can't we compromise a little bit? You could serve some stuff that we both like for a change?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a _vegan_, Puck. It's not a matter of compromise. I've made a life choice not to eat any animal products."

"Yeah?" Her boyfriend shrugged his muscular shoulders. "And I've made a life choice to be a total carnivore. Why couldn't you make me some bacon? It's not like you have to eat it or anything!"

"NOAH!" the singer screeched, her voice raising several octaves (and, in Puck's opinion, several levels of annoying). "You're an insult to the Jewish faith! What kind of example are you setting for our future children?"

As he opened his mouth to explain for the fiftieth time that he didn't want to have children with her, even if by some fluke their relationship _did _last past high school, she speared a glob of mixed fruit with the abandoned fork and forced it into his open mouth.

"BLECH!" He spit the mess out onto his plate, causing Rachel to flinch. "What the hell was that?"

"Mixed berries," she told him. "Blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries—but mostly huckleberries. They're my favorite."

He frowned at her, chugging an entire can of Coke to wash the taste from his mouth. "Isn't Huckleberry that guy from that stupid book we had to read last year?"

She ignored him, instead busying herself with cleaning up. "You know, Noah, you could be a little appreciative of me for once. I worked for a whole hour making that mixed berry salad for you, and you're telling me that you didn't like _any _of the berries I put in it?"

Her back turned to her boyfriend, the singer missed the smirk growing on his face. A moment later, he picked her up and swept her into his arms, kissing her soundly and causing her to drop the fruit salad bowl on the floor, where it promptly shattered.

"I like this Berry. Does that count?"


	6. Cherry

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 6: Cherry**

By the beginning of junior year, Rachel Berry had been slushied by every member of the football, basketball, and hockey teams at McKinley High, except for one. And it wasn't Finn. Even the sweet, hopelessly naïve quarterback had given her a face full of ice and sugary syrup a few times (though, admittedly, not since he had joined Glee Club). No, the one McKinley jock who had never tossed a frozen drink at her recently exfoliated skin was none other than Mike Chang.

Rachel and Mike had rarely spoken, even though they had been in Glee Club together for over a year. He wasn't a very talkative person, being more of a dancer than a singer. But Rachel deduced that he must be a nice guy (after all, any guy who respects her beautiful face instead of defacing it, no pun intended, on a regular basis, couldn't be all that bad,) so, one day after Glee rehearsal, just as he was about to leave with Puck, Finn and Santana, she stopped him.

"Hello, Mike," she said with her largest, most charming smile.

The Asian jock smiled awkwardly, nodded a few times at her, muttered "Hi, Rachel," and tried not-so-subtly to make a break for the door.

"I happened to notice that you are the only member of the McKinley High football team that has never slushied me."

He frowned. "Is…is that a bad thing."

Rachel laughed. Mike was clearly struck almost dumb by her presence. She understood—it was a fairly common occurrence. She was, after all, extremely talented. "No, Mike, it's not." She realized that this was the first time she had ever referred to him as just Mike. Even when they were talking directly to him, the Glee kids always called him by his full name, Mike Chang. "I was just wondering why. It's quite odd." She was smart enough to realize that giving a Glee kid a slushie facial moved you several rungs up the ladder of coolness and popularity.

The slender Asian shrugged. "I…I just….I really like slushies. Especially cherry slushies. They're, like, really good. Like REALLY good."

Rachel laughed, showing off her recently whitened teeth. "Are you sure that's the only reason, Mike?" She knew she shouldn't pry into the football player's private affairs, but his response was so interesting. As much as she wished it wasn't true, men were rarely actually struck dumb by her presence. Therefore, he probably had a very important reason for not slushie-ing her.

"Actually….it's because I really like _you_…" As the diva was still struggling to comprehend her fellow Glee member's muttered words, he succeeded in making a break for the door. Just as he reached it (which happened to be the exact same moment at which Rachel realized what he had said,) he turned back.

"Do you wanna…go get slushies with me tomorrow after Glee? Cherry slushies?" He hadn't been lying—they really were his favorite flavor.

Rachel flashed him another dazzling smile. "I would like that a lot, Mike." He smiled back at her, gave her a thumbs up, and ran out of the choir room.

Rachel continued smiling even after Mike (who would never be 'Mike Chang' to her anymore) had left. He wasn't the romantic kind of guy who would profess his love on bended knee every day, but he would also never throw a slushie at her. Ever.


	7. Pezberry

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 7: Pezberry**

Rachel was surprised to discover that Santana's locker was full of candy.

She hadn't meant to spy, _really_. Santana hadn't been at rehearsal yesterday, and Mr. Schuester had asked Brittany to give her the sheet music they'd been working on. Rachel suspected that Brittany had forgotten, so she had gone to give the music to the Cheerio herself—only to find the locker unlocked and the Latina conspicuously absent.

So she'd opened Santana's locker, planning to stuff the sheet music in and get out before the extremely frightening girl returned. However, the contents of the metal cube were so shocking that the singer just stood there, her mouth hanging open and the sheet music, forgotten, clutched in her limp hand.

She'd expected that there wouldn't be schoolbooks in Santana's locker. But what she _had _expected was something along the lines of condoms or knives or voodoo dolls of the other members of New Directions, sans Brittany. Never in a million years would she guess that the former head cheerleader's private space would be full of Pez dispensers, their cartoon heads smiling creepily down at the diva, and piles of shredded wrappers indicating that the Pez contained in those creepy dispensers were all of the "Wild Berry" flavor.

"If you don't give me a valid reason for spying on my locker in _three _seconds, Berry, you will find yourself sharing a dumpster with Hummel—except you'll be _dead_." Rachel tried to back away, but her feet wouldn't respond. She merely stood there, feeling extremely dwarfed by Santana, and not just because the feisty Latina was several inches taller than she.

"I….was….here." Rachel managed to manipulate her arm into raising and handing Santana the sheet music. The Cheerio snatched the paper away with a small, "hmph," then, to the diva's shock, smelled it as though checking for poison before finally tossing it into her locker, where it knocked over the dispensers featuring the heads of Big Bird, Bugs Bunny, and Santa.

"And that required that you open my locker and _spy _on my personal effects?"

Rachel knew what she _should _say at this point was "I'm sorry" or "Please forgive me" or even "Don't kill me". But Rachel Berry was known for speaking her mind, and neither of those things were on her mind. What she said—or rather asked—instead was "How do you stay so skinny?" If the shredded wrappers were any indication, Santana Lopez ate at least ten packs of wild berry Pez every day.

Santana's eyes darted left to right rapidly, as though checking for eavesdroppers. Seeing none, she smirked at the singer. "You think I got my nonexistent gag reflex from eating cafeteria food?"

Understanding caused Rachel's eyes to widen as she remembered a pamphlet that Miss Pillsbury had once made her read. Again, the proper response would have been "I'm sorry" or "I won't tell anyone." Once again, the diva did not give the proper response.

"Actually, I thought it came from all those guys you've slept with."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Damn, Berry, you really _are _a virgin." Her smirk disappeared, her voice becoming low and dangerous. "If Coach Sylvester ever gets wind of this, I _will _sneak into your house in the middle of the night and force you to swallow your own tongue."

Rachel gasped, offended (another incorrect response). "I would never betray any other member of Glee Club! You guys are my family!"

"If you haven't forgotten, Berry, I _loathe _you."

Now it was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Santana," she responded. "By the way, there's a sale on candy at Target this weekend. Whoever buys the most gets a free dinner at Breadsticks."

Rachel walked away, smiling. The encounter would go down in history as the only time she had ever gotten the last word on Santana Lopez.


	8. Kum

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**NOTE: **This chapter is a strong T for….suggestive themes. Just look at the name, guys. Also, I will NOT do a certain Finn/Puck portmanteau even if asked. So if you want this pairing, find another name.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 8: Kum **

If the males of McKinley needed dating or sex advice, they asked Noah Puckerman. He was widely acknowledged as having the most experience out of anyone in the entire school. Asking Puck a sex question meant he would mock you for the rest of your life, but he'd also give you an honest answer that had at least a 99% chance of working.

So it was to Puck that Sam Evans went when he realized he had absolutely no idea how to ask out the man of his dreams.

Knowing the jock as he did from Glee, however, the blonde made the wise decision _not _to tell Puck exactly whom it was he planned to ask out. Instead, he merely approached him in the locker room after football practice, interrupting the tanned jock in the process of admiring his own guns.

"Hey, Puck, I've got a question. There's this…person….I want to ask out…"

Before he could get out another word, Puck responded with "Tell her you don't have a mailman problem."

The pale jock blushed tomato red. "I….I don't think…" He'd spent enough time listening to the other footballers mock Finn Hudson to understand what a 'mailman problem' was, but he didn't think his lack of one (and he didn't have one, really) would impress a certain diva.

Puck shrugged. "That's how I got Quinn back, anyway." Sam raised his eyebrows. He knew that Puck had had a thing with Quinn in the past, and had had his eye on the head cheerleader since she and Sam had broken up, but he hadn't thought that she would be impressed by that particular announcement.

"I….I don't think h…don't think _she_…would care." He flinched, realizing that he had almost slipped up. If and when he decided to come out, Puck would not be the first person he would tell.

To Sam's surprise, the big jock spun around and put a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, his eyes and voice surprisingly serious.

"Sam, I think the only way Hummel will respect you enough to be your boyfriend is if you're not ashamed of the two of you being together. At this point, you're so far in the closet you're having adventures in Narnia. If you're not even man enough to tell me you're gay—knowing I don't gossip—then you're definitely not the kind of guy Hummel wants."

"How did you…." Sam tried to ask, but Puck turned around again and left the locker room, not even stopping to put on a shirt.

**Later, at Glee rehearsal **

"Mr. Schu, I have a song I'd like to sing," Sam announced. He was shaking and his palms were sweating, but he'd been thinking about Puck's advice all day.

"Sure thing, Sam! Let's see what you've got," replied the curly-haired teacher. He sat down between Mercedes and Finn, gesturing for the blonde jock to take the stage (not literally, they were in the choir room).

Sam cleared his throat. "I'd like to dedicate this to….the person I like." he announced. In all honesty, he'd picked the song (_As Long As You're Mine _from Wicked, a solo version that he himself had arranged,) because he knew it well enough to sing it in front of the entire club with less than a day's worth of practice, but it was a bonus that the guy whose eye he was trying to catch loved this particular song as well.

Once the song was finished, he saw several confused looks. Most of the glee club members (especially Brittany and Finn) had been unable to figure out who he was singing to.

So he told them. "Kurt Hummel, I like you….a whole lot…and I'm not ashamed to say so in front of everyone. Also I don't have a mailman problem." He blushed redder than he had earlier when he realized what had slipped out of his mouth. "Will you go out with me?"


	9. Mitt

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Chapter 9: Mitt **

Mike had always been jealous of Matt. Football was neither boy's passion; each had something that meant a great deal more to them than tossing an oddly shaped ball around a field while scantily-clad girls yelled their names.

But why was Matt's passion so much more 'acceptable' than Mike's? Why was dancing shunned, looked down upon and called 'feminine,' while baseball was perfectly okay. He sometimes heard Finn, Puck and some of the other jocks ask Matt how his team was doing and whether they could come see the next game. He disliked the quiet boy for having such a….normal….favorite activity.

He had hoped that joining Glee would change all of that. Sure, the club wasn't popular, but at least he would be able to dance in public.

Needless to say, he was shocked when Matt joined the club as well. He already played at least two sports; he was one of the more popular jocks at the school. He couldn't believe that _Matt _of all people would sacrifice his reputation in such a way. He had to know why.

"So what's with _you _joining the glee club? Hung up your baseball….mitt?" Matt asked his teammate.

"Glove," responded the taciturn baseball player. "Baseball glove. And no."

"Then why are you in Glee?" From what he saw, Matt was perfectly content dancing and singing in the background. He never tried out for solos, whether vocal or movement. The Asian jock was completely unable to figure out why the football and baseball player had joined the nerdy, low-on-the-social-ladder club in the first player.

His response was surprisingly wordy (for Matt, that is). "If you like someone, you should learn about the things that they love to do."

That wasn't the response Mike had been expecting. He knew Matt had slept with Santana and probably Brittany, but so had every other guy in the school (except that Hummel kid). Beyond that, he had never seen Matt with a girlfriend. Who could he like? Was it Tina, or Mercedes, or even that noisy Berry girl?

Though he observed Matt a lot during rehearsal, he could never catch the baseball lover paying particular attention to any of the girls in the club. However, when (after the boys did their first mash-up, and Mike got to show off his skills in front of the club for the first time) Matt came up to him and asked him if he could teach him how to dance, he guessed that it must be Brittany. She was, after all, the best dancer in the club—except maybe himself?

Embarrassingly, it took Mike months to figure out who Matt really had a crush on. Though, in his credit, when he finally _did _figure it out, he took immediate action.

It was a big game. If Matt's team won, they would be going on to the state championships. Though Mike knew very little about baseball (despite having stayed up all night researching it,) he understood that that was a really big deal.

Matt's grin when he crossed the plate, scoring the winning run, was the second-largest that Mike had ever seen on his friend's face. The largest occurred about five minutes later, when he jogged over to the stands and stood directly in front of where Mike sat (wearing a T-shirt with Matt's team name on it, a baseball cap, and a glove that he had bought just last night).

"Nice mitt," Matt joked, reaching through the fence and taking Mike's non-covered hand in his own.

"It's a glove," Mike told him proudly. "I learned that last night."

"When did you suddenly get so interested in baseball?" The grin on Matt's face told Mike that his crush already knew.

"When you like someone, you should learn about the things they love to do."


	10. Tike

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Chapter 10: Tike**

Mike Chang was one of the few in his high school that didn't want to get out of Lima. Sure, the town was small, conservative, and depressingly ignorant, but it was his home. And he had good memories here—McKinley had been hell on earth, and yet he remembered his high school years as the best four of his life. Glee club had been the best part of the experience; he'd finally been able to dance outside of his bedroom. He'd met eleven amazing new friends, one father figure, and, most importantly, the woman of his dreams.

"Hey, Daddy, can I go to schoow wif you yet?"

Who was, at the moment, trying to restrain a squirming toddler as he tried to run into his father's arms. Finally, Tina gave up the struggle, allowing four-year-old William "Will" Chang to be whisked into Mike's strong embrace.

"Not yet, Will," he told the boy, ruffling his son's dark hair. "When you're older."

"But I am owder. I'm fouw now. I _was _thwee." Mike laughed. Will had his father's eyes, his mother's wit, and his namesake's curly hair. Artie Abrams, coach of New Directions since the elder Will had retired to become a father himself, had told Mike and Tina that he couldn't wait until their son joined the club. "If he's got his mom's voice and his dad's dancing skills, he may be the Rachel Berry of the next generation," the wheelchair-bound coach had once said.

Mike handed Will off to his wife, giving them each a brief kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll have a much more fun day than I will, silly boy."

"He will," Tina (as always, dressed in all black,) laughed. "You're going over to play with Barbie and Burt," she told her son. Barbara Hudson and Burt Hummel-Evans, both also four years old, were Will's best friends in the entire world.

Will's eyes widened. "Wif Auntie Wachie and Unceh Finn too?" Tina nodded, kissing both her husband and son as Mike headed out the door. "Don't forget, dear, we've got dinner with everyone tonight since the Hudsons are in town." The national tour of _Wicked _was stopping in Lima, and its leads wanted to spend every available moment with their old friends.

Mike smiled as he headed out, blowing last kisses to Tina and Will. Though everyone had talked about "getting out" of the city, most of them (sans the Hudsons and the Lopez-Pierces, who now hosted a widely popular dance show) lived in the area. Some still worked at McKinley (Sam, who coached football, Quinn, who was the guidance counselor, and Mercedes, who had, to everyone's surprise, taken over the Cheerios when Coach Sylvester finally retired). Mike himself worked there as well, coaching the newly formed dance troupe, Willpower, which had, along with the Cheerios and New Directions, brought three National titles to the school last year. Puck still cleaned pools. Tina and Mrs. Schuester (the former Mrs. Pillsbury) were housewives. Kurt designed costumes for the local theater. Though it was years since they had all graduated, they were all still family.

_And to think, _Mike realized as he pulled into the familiar parking lot (where a group of football players and Glee kids stood talking together, drinking slushies rather than throwing them at each other,) _how much we all talked about getting out of here. _

Thinking about the dance troupe, about Artie and the club, about all of his friends and their own children, and (most importantly) about Tina and Will back home, Mike decided that Lima, Ohio, was a pretty cool place to live after all.


	11. Muck

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Chapter 11: Muck**

Mercedes didn't always hate Mondays. Some Mondays, of course, sucked majorly. Those were the Mondays when she had loads of homework, or three tests all on the first day of the week, or Mr. Schuester decided they were having another 'old songs' week.

But the Mondays that followed her and Kurt's monthly shopping weekends were some of Mercedes' favorite days. She'd walk up to McKinley in brand new, insanely stylish clothes, feeling like the queen of the school, bratty Cheerios and slushie-obsessed football players be damned.

This Monday was no exception. Kurt had taken her to this new store that Blaine had showed him (she didn't like the guy much, but he had some fashion sense,) and she'd gotten a rhinestone-studded jacket that she _knew _made her look like a million dollars.

Unfortunately, as was usual for McKinley High, home of Neanderthals and airheads, her clothing was ruined before she even stepped inside the building. As was not so usual, the cause of destruction was not a concoction made of sugary syrup and ice, but a glob of large, smelly muck left over from the recent rainstorm, catapulted into her chest due to a sharp turn by the car of one Noah Puckerman.

"Oh hell to the naw," the large diva growled, stalking over to Puck as quickly as she could in her brand new (also rhinestone-studded) shoes. "Noah Puckerman, you did _not _just…"

"Hey glee kid, I heard you like it _dirty_!" a football player whose name she didn't even bother to remember shouted at her from across the parking lot. Mercedes sped up, accosting Puck as soon as he stepped out of his 'sweet ride'.

"Do you SEE what you did to my jacket, you jerk? You are going to PAY for this, white boy. For your information this is brand new and cost $100." As she shook her fist in the jock's face, the glob of muck slid from her jacket and began running its leisurely way down her designer jeans. "Oh look, there's another $100. Now you owe me $200, in case you're too dumb to do the math."

To her surprise, Puck held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ok, Ok, Mercedes, you win. I'll buy you new clothes."

"Damn right you will," the singer responded, turning away with a smile of triumph on her face.

To her surprise, Puck grabbed her arm and spun her back around to face him. _Now _he wore his trademark smirk.

"One thing, hot stuff. You're going to have to come with me. I have no idea where the hell you buy girl clothes." He ran his free hand up her arm. Too late, Mercedes realized that he had planned this whole thing from the start.

"All right Puckerman. We'll go shopping. But you are paying for absolutely _everything_, mister." As if to punctuate her words, the glob of disgusting filth slid the rest of the way down her jeans, landing with a definitive _plop _on her shoes.


	12. Shell

**Portmanteau Couple Names**

**A/n**: Requests for one-shots are OPEN. Leave a review or PM me with a couple you want to see featured and which name you want me to use, and I will try to write something for you. Draw me some fanart of any kind for this story, and I will 100% definitely include your suggestion. Specify which name you want used for the couple (I will write multiples for each pair if people want different names) and whether you want romantic or friendship.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Chapter 12: Shell**

"You've never been to the beach?"

Shelby Corcoran rolled her eyes. "We live in Ohio, William. It's not like we can just skip down to the ocean for the day."

"Yeah, but….but still," Will stared wide-eyed at his girlfriend, shocked. "You never took a vacation with your family? Not even as a kid?"

The brunette ex-Vocal Adrenaline coach shook her head again. "I was always too busy to go on any sort of vacation."

The curly-haired man sat down on the couch beside Shelby. "You really _are _Rachel's mother," he mused. He remembered Finn telling him about how Rachel had never been bowling.

"Yeah," Shelby replied, not looking at her boyfriend. "I guess we are a lot alike."

The conversation ended there, but Will Schuester by no means forgot it. He had determined that he was going to take Shelby to the beach, and NOTHING would stop him. Not even the fact that there was no ocean within hundreds of miles.

And so, still riding the high from their victory at Regionals (lacking both Jesse and Shelby, Vocal Adrenaline hadn't stood a chance,) the twelve members of New Directions plus Will and Shelby piled into a beat-up hired bus and made their way to the lake on the outskirts of Lima.

The lake was small and not very deep, but there was a narrow beach of white sand, a hot-dog stand, and a sagging volleyball net. Within minutes, the club had spread themselves out to enjoy a rare day of complete relaxation. Finn, Puck, Mike and Sam splashed around in the shallow water. Every so often, a long spray of water "accidentally" kicked up by one of the boys reached the shore, drenching Rachel, Tina, and Kurt (who were sunbathing,) Mercedes (who was reading a fashion magazine,) or Artie (who was trying and failing to take pictures). Only Quinn and Santana, who were playing volleyball, and Brittany, who was trying (and failing) to keep score, remained dry.

Will and Shelby sat on a towel a little ways up the beach, far out of range of the roughhousing males. "So this is what kids do at the beach?" the former glee coach asked her boyfriend as she watched Kurt yell at Sam for getting water on his brand new designer swimsuit. "Flirt, play sports or do nothing at all?"

"Basically," Will replied.

"Sounds a lot like high school," Shelby mused. Sam ran over to the sunbathing trio, picked up Kurt, and carried him down to the shoreline, leading to high-pitched screaming from the diva and laughter from everybody else present.

"Well, there is one other thing you can do at the beach," the curly-haired man announced, a goofy smile growing slowly on his face.

"What's that?" Shelby asked, not looking at Will. Her attention was fixed on the three Cheerios, who were arguing about the results of their volleyball game (according to Brittany, Santana had won 46-pi, which Quinn claimed wasn't even possible). The ex-coach stood up, about to go over and break the argument apart, when she felt Will press a small, smooth object into her hand.

"Collect seashells," her boyfriend said from behind her. She opened her hand, revealing a perfectly formed pink and white conch shell.

"Will," she accused, a teasing note in her voice, "these aren't native to Ohi—" As she spoke, she turned the shell over in her hand, causing a round, cold metal object to fall into her other palm. She opened her second hand and screamed in total shock and delight, causing all of the Glee kids to stop and turn towards their coach and unofficial team mom.

The object was a ring.

Shelby turned. Will knelt on the sand in front of her. "Shelby, will you marry me?" he asked, though the mere presence of the ring had already made his intentions clear.

"OF COURSE!" The usually reserved woman found herself screaming. A moment later, she was swept into her fiancé's arms. He spun her around, laughing. As one, the members of New Directions began to applaud. It seemed like the perfect moment, until….

_SPLASH! _As he raised his hands to clap for Will and Shelby, Sam accidentally dropped Kurt (whom he had still been carrying) into the water.

Kurt screamed. The other boys laughed, and attempted to grab their own respective significant others. The girls began to run away.

For once, Will and Shelby let chaos reign.


End file.
